


Condone

by Lilyliegh



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, M/M, ygotp2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:08:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8844352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilyliegh/pseuds/Lilyliegh
Summary: Yuuma has friends but he also has Vector, and to Vector you can only have one or the other. He's fortunate Yuuma will always reach out to him.





	

Yuuma is the first one to the mailbox in the morning. He wakes up early, stretches his arms high above his head, yawns, and then tears out of the bedroom. He hears Vector mumble something about being quiet, but Yuuma knows that whatever Vector said is out of kindness and possibly sleep deprivation, so he hurries down the hallway and out the door. His and Vector’s apartment is on the top floor – Yuuma’s choice because it had a wonderful view – and so Yuuma has to take all eleven flights of stairs to book it down to the mailboxes. No one else seems to be awake at this early hour; silence spreads across the futuristic buildings and winding streets. The sun has yet to rise, and the chilly winter air nips at Yuuma’s exposed arms.

This has been Yuuma’s morning routine for the past week. Long before anyone is awake – and sometimes even before _he_ is properly awake – Yuuma dashes down the stairs to check the mail. With Christmas just around the corner, Yuuma has been expecting cards from his friends and family. For as long as he can remember, his sister and grandmother have given him letters with cash and duel monsters cards for Christmas, and that tradition never ceased when he moved out of the house to live with Vector. His parents have joined in on this tradition as well. Yuuuma is also expecting cards from his friends, who, while they might not give him gifts, have always shared the holiday cheer with a kind message. Yet it’s now five days away from Christmas and Yuuma has yet to see a _single_ card come in the mail. He’s called the postal service to confirm that yes, in fact, the post office is open and running, and that no there are no delays; however, no cards have arrived.

Opening the door to the mail room, Yuuma sees that there is no one else here either. He checks his mailbox to find it empty – again – and checks around the mail room to see if his mail has been misplaced. The search proves fruitless, and Yuuma trudges back up the stairs.

What Yuuma hasn’t done yet is call anyone. He’d asked Vector if maybe he should, but his boyfriend reprimanded him for being rude and demanding, and that if his family wasn’t going to send a card this year that it would be their loss, not Yuuma’s.

“Besides,” Vector had told him yesterday, “I already got you something better.”

Yuuma can’t imagine what could be better than getting gifts from his family and friends, though Vector has been known to go all-out with presents.

However, Vector isn’t up yet; he stayed up all night gaming and passed out right before  Yuuma woke up. Yuuma laughs at his boyfriend’s sleeping habits as he shuts the bedroom door and then heads to the kitchen to fix himself breakfast and tea. He makes extra for Vector even though he never eats – one plate of eggs and rice that will go untouched until Yuuma eats it for lunch.

Yuuma is halfway through eating breakfast and scrolling through Alit’s _many_ Tumblr posts when his cell phone buzzes in his hands. Shark’s name flashes across the screen; Yuuma answers: “Morning, Shark!”

The voice on the other end is far less cheery. “Rio wants me to ask you if you want to come to a party tomorrow night.”

“You want me to go to a party?” Yuuma shouts into the phone.

“ _Rio_ wants you to come to a party,” Shark says.

Yuuma grins. “ _Sure_ she does. I’ll go! I’d love to! I –” Yuuma pauses when his eyes glance to the door. He’s not doing anything particular tomorrow, but Vector doesn’t work that day, and usually on Vector’s off days he and Yuuma do something special together. “Can Vector come to the party too?”

“If he really wants to,” Shark says.

“Sure, then I’ll go!”

“Sounds good. See you tomorrow then!”

“OK, and –” Before Yuuma can get the words in, the line falls silent. Yuuma drops the phone with a sigh, doodling with his free hand in the salt on the table. If only he’d spoken faster and asked Shark about the letters. Of course, there’s the possibility that Shark and Rio will give him his letter in person, and that prompts Yuuma to think that maybe _everyone_ will give him a letter at the party. Maybe that’s what this party is: a gift exchange party. Yuuma has already sent out his letters, but he supposes this might be a chance for everyone to give back. Not that he’s assuming everyone will give him presents, but still …

It takes all of Yuuma’s mental strength not to tackle Vector on the bed then and there and share the news with him; he waits until noon, when Yuuma claims it is a decent time for Vector to be awake. He still tackles him on the bed, belly flopping smack on Vector’s shoulder and waking the other boy with a startled gasp.

Vector looks up at Yuuma and frowns.

“Good morning!” Yuuma says, stealing a quick kiss.

“I’m not getting up yet,” Vector says. He flips to the other side of the bed, pulling the blankets over his head.

“But Vector,” Yuuma whines, “I have the bestest news for you, and I can’t tell you if you’re not awake. You’ve gotta wake up so I – can – tell – you!” With each word, Yuuma shakes Vector’s shoulder, grinning at the grumbles and moans Vector makes beneath the blankets.

“Piss off, Yuuma. It’s not morning yet.”

“You’re right! It’s the afternoon!” Yuuma gives Vector one last, final shake before he tears the covers off and chucks them to the ground. “I have the best news for you! Shark is hosting a party, and he invited us, and that means we can go together. Maybe they’ll be exchanging cards, and I can get some cards, and I can finally found out if –”

“We’re not going.”

“W-what?” Yuuma settles down from his perch on the bed, having been animatedly telling Vector the story before the interruption. “What do you mean by that? We’ve got nothing planned for that day: you don’t have work, I don’t have work. And we were personally invited by Shark and Shark’s sister, which means we _have_ to go or else we’ll disappoint _everyone_.”

Vector is nonplussed. “No, we’re not going to Shark’s stupid party. Especially because I don’t work. That’s my one day off, Yuuma – one fucking day in two weeks of retail hell – and the last thing I want to do is spend it entertaining _them_. Besides, I doubt they invited me; they invited _you_ , and when you tagged me into that, they just couldn’t say no to you.” Vector rolls over and glares at Yuuma. “I’m telling you no though.”

Yuuma opens his mouth to retort, but the words catch on his tongue when he spots Vector’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Well, I guess you don’t have to go then. I could just go …” It wouldn’t be as fun, thinks Yuuma, but he wouldn’t want to drag Vector along for something that’ll put him through misery.

However, Vector is quick to snap back, “You’ll leave them for me?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Yuuma says, crawling over the covers to keep Vector’s attention. “I mean, if you want to do something together, I’m sure that’ll be grand too. In fact, it’ll be even better. Just the two of us, spending our one free day together.” Yuuma smiles; Vector doesn’t. “Do you have anything planned?” Yuuma asks with a suggestive wink.

“No, I just don’t want you hanging around them.”

_Oh._ Yuuma wants to suggest that that’s not Vector’s choice, that that’s _mean_ and _hurtful_ and _childish_ , but seeing Vector’s tired glance to him steers Yuuma away from confrontation. He doesn’t mean it. He’s tired. He’s hurt that Yuuma would choose Shark – _Nasch_ – over him. He’s hurt that Yuuma would rather spend his time with many people rather than one. He’s hurt that Yuuma chose _them_ over him.

Yuuma lets his arms drape around Vector’s shoulders and settle around his chest. Breathing in slowly, Yuuma can smell Vector’s cologne and the slight chemical smell from when he left work. Vector lets him touch him, though Yuuma doesn’t miss the slight stiffness to Vector’s body when Yuuma puts his full weight over Vector. Gently, Yuuma strokes his fingers across Vector’s collar.

“Let’s have a fun day today and tomorrow, OK?”

Vector grumbles something into the sheets.

Yuuma hums in agreement.

* * *

Yuuma doesn’t go to the party the next day, and Vector is happy to report that he doesn’t have to engage in any festivities either. When Yuuma wakes up the following day, Vector hears him bolt from the room and dash out the door to check the postbox. When Yuuma returns with a sullen expression, Vector lets himself wake up just enough to embrace his boyfriend in a loose hug. Consoled, Vector then lets Yuuma fix himself breakfast; he fixes some for Vector too who insists that if he’s up this early he’s not eating anything until he fixes himself a coffee and a latte and a Redbull.

Half-awake, Vector watches Yuuma skitter around the house, eating breakfast and doing dishes and scrolling through his Twitter feed all at once. When he catches Vector’s eyes on him, he _beams_ , and it makes Vector sick to his stomach. Yuuma’s smile is infectious; he sees it everywhere, where it’s not needed and where he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t _deserve_ Yuuma’s sympathy that masks as kindness.

On that special day – Shark’s disgusting Christmas get-together, orchestrated by his sister – Vector watches Yuuma flitter around the house.

“You can’t go to the party,” Vector says, “but you’re free to enjoy yourself. Maybe the café has hot chocolate.”

From his pacing around the kitchen, Yuuma looks up. “You want hot chocolate?” he says.

“I want a _macchiato_ – you can get hot chocolate though.”

Yuuma is already halfway across the flat, fumbling with his shoes with _buckles and straps_ , and his jacket that his sister got him last Christmas when she learned Yuuma was braving Heartland City winters in a _Galaxy Eyes_ sweater. Vector remains on the couch, sipping at a cold coffee.

Ready, Yuuma looks up. Frowns. Crosses his arms. “You aren’t coming?” he teases, not looking the least bit affronted by Vector’s behaviour. _How kind can you be?_ Vector thinks, but laughs at his own joke. _Accommodating_ , Vector decides. Yuuma is accommodating of Vector’s terrible manners and atrocious behavior. _Forgiving_ of all Vector has ever done to hurt anyone and what Vector continues to do. Vector doesn’t even need to make excuses for his behaviour: Yuuma makes them for him.

“I’m not going out in that nasty weather,” Vector says, tilting his head towards the darkening, cold sky. There’s no snow on the streets – thank _gods_ – but the wind is enough to send a shiver deep into his bones. “You’re welcome to brave that weather on your own. I’ll wait here and keep the house warm.”

If Yuuma sees the shittiness of that excuse, he doesn’t challenge it. “No prob!” Yuuma says. “I’ll be right back, OK?” He throws open the door, crashes it against the wall that he does every morning when he checks the mailbox, and hurries out the door. When the locks clicks, Vector breathes a sigh of relief.

From between the couch seats Vector pulls out one thin letter addressed to Yuuma by Durbe. The printing is sickeningly precise, as is anything Durbe does. Vector has already found letters from several of the other Barians – Alit, Nasch, and Rio – and he suspects the other two will send cards soon. There are more cards Vector has found too: ones from Yuuma’s family, who slipped in _Duel Monsters_ cards that Vector sold for good money on eBay; and ones from Yuuma’s old classmates, each one telling him in length about their current academic or employment woes.

Vector twirls the letter between his fingers before he stands and heads to the bedroom. He tucks the letter under the bed, nestled between the others, and adjusts the mattress so that no edges poke out. Originally, Vector had kept them between the pages of one of his high school textbooks – it had been all the book was good for – yet once Yuuma started getting _more and more,_ Vector had to resort to a more spacious hiding spot. He hadn’t expected so many of Yuuma’s friends to write back to him – who did they think they were to deserve Yuuma’s praise and admiration?

To Vector’s surprise, Yuuma has never looked for them. Yuuma has never suspected him to misplace his cards – not even an innocent comment to how forgetful Vector can be to remind Yuuma of important events. Vector laughs; anyone else would have accused him. But if Yuuma had gone to the party he would’ve seen Shark, and Shark would’ve told him about the letter. Yuuma would surely start asking around about why the post office misplaces his letters, and though Shark might’ve accused him, Yuuma would defend him. Vector doesn’t want that though: he doesn’t _want_ Yuuma’s forgiveness.

“Vector? Where are you?”

Vector stands up and heads to the living room. Yuuma’s cheeks are rosy from the cold and he shivers slightly as he holds out a hot drink. “One macchiato! How do you drink that stuff though? It’s the wrong kind of sweet.”

Raising an eyebrow, Vector takes a deep sip. “It’s for _adults_ ,” he says. “When you hit my age, you start to live by this stuff.”

Yuuma tries to take off his jacket one-handed while holding onto his hot chocolate at the same time. When he nearly crashes to the ground, Vector takes the drink from his hands, takes a sip and grimaces at the sweetness, and sets it on the counter. Yuuma laughs, rubbing his hands up and down his arms to warm himself. “It’s so cold out there! It doesn’t look it, but there’s _wind_.”

“Hm.” Vector pushes his hands onto Yuuma’s cheeks, feeling the warmth beneath his fingers. “You’re warming up quick though.” Gently, Vector draws Yuuma closer into a hug; Yuuma leans in until his head is resting against Vector’s shoulder, spiky hair poking into his boyfriend’s jaw. “Yuuma,” Vector begins, “I want to spend Christmas with you … just you. No one else, OK? I’ll do anything you want to do, OK? We can go shopping together. I just want to be with you.”

Yuuma nods; his head connects with Vector’s chin and they both wince. “That’s a great idea! There’s so much we can do together. But …” Yuuma pauses. “Why can’t the others come over? I’m really, _really_ sure they wouldn’t mind seeing you.”

“I don’t want you to see them,” Vector says.

“Oh.” Vector feels Yuuma stiffen between his arms, but neither moves to break away. “I guess I can always see them for the New Year. You and me can have a Christmas together.”

“That’s right.”

If Yuuma is uncomfortable, if Yuuma is unhappy, Vector can’t tell. He hugs Yuuma close and tight as if he would never let go – just as Yuuma has never let go. He came back for Yuuma. Yuuma came back for _him._ And Vector will never let go again.


End file.
